Fairy Godfather
by Cris
Summary: Young doctor Edward pulls a beautiful girl out of harms way, and finds that he may have just stumbled onto his greatest desire. Daddykink, so if that's not your thing, go elsewhere. For abadkitty.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello duckies! No, I'm not abandoning Wisp, so cool your jets. This is going to be a small (maybe 10 chapters or so) story, mainly sweet. It's going to contain Daddykink, so you're forewarned. This is for abadkitty, who loves me just as I am. :-)

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**Fairy Godfather**

"Watch out!"

The squeal of wheels on wet pavement and the revving of a motorcycle engine fills Edward's ears as he fists his hand in the back of a cotton collar and yanks hard. He pulls the shirt's owner off their feet and a body rams hard into him, knocking them both to the ground. Together they hit the blacktop and the body he's just yanked out of the path of a line of motorcycles collapses against him. An elbow or shoulder jabs him in the stomach and all the air leaves his lungs with a painful, audible _whoosh_.

Great, just great. That's what he gets for trying to help someone.

A motorcycle pauses, and Edward looks up into the face of a man with stringy blond hair and gaunt cheeks. "Want some help, mate?" The man laughs, eying the small body curled in a ball next to Edward with an unpleasant smile on his face and a leer in his eyes.

"Fuck off," Edward grunts, struggling to get his breath back. He grabs the little body by the waist and hauls it out of the street and onto the sidewalk. Panting, he manages to get them both back on their feet and he runs his hands along fabric and skin, searching by touch for any sign of injury. "Mother_fucker_!" he manages to wheeze. "What the fucking hell were you thinking, walking out into the street like that?" Finding a pair of sharp shoulders, he bears down and shakes—probably not quite as gently as he intends, but fuck, he's _pissed_. "Look at me, damn it!"

The head snaps up at his command, wide, dark eyes meeting his, full of confusion and terror. Delicate little turned-up nose, full lips—it's a _girl_. The biker's leer makes complete sense now. In the heat of the moment when he saw her step into the street, he hadn't registered exactly who he was saving, just that it was a person who apparently had a death wish. But now, looking at her pale, pretty face, some of the fury drains from his body. She's just a girl—just a scared little girl.

"Hey, are you okay?" A bystander inches closer. "Should I call 911 or anything?"

"I'm a doctor," Edward answers, brushing away the woman's concern. "I'll take care of it. Thank you, though."

A damp, penetrating rain drips down, blanketing the street with water. Edward blinks drops out of his eyes, focusing on the girl shaking in his grasp. Gritting his teeth and now regretting shaking her, he gentles his hands on her thin shoulders. She's ghostly pale, her breath panting from her parted lips in shallow little puffs. Wide, scared eyes continue to stare at him, though he's not entirely sure she knows what she was looking at—her gaze looks a little glassy.

"Hey," he says, willing his voice to calm. The last thing they need at this point is for him to scare her more. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I was just really fucking scared, okay? I saw you stepping into the path of those motorcycles and..." He lets the sentence trail off, looking her over for injuries. "Do you hurt anywhere? Did you hear me tell that lady I'm a doctor?"

There's absolutely no response from the girl, who just stares at him with those big Disney eyes.

"Look, I'm getting kind of concerned. You don't seem terribly well." Is she going into shock? After such a fright, it's a distinct possibility. "Did you hit your head? Talk to me. Tell me something—how about your name? Can you give me your name?"

Her pale lips move and she finally blinks. "B-bella."

"Bella, huh?" Edward shifts his hands, sliding them off her shoulders. He watches carefully as she sways, trying to find her center of balance. One leg shifts to give her a better stance, but the toe of her Converse sneaker catches on a crack in the sidewalk and she pitches forward, arms raised to shield her face. "Easy there." He catches her around the waist—she feels so tiny when he puts his hands on her. So...fragile. She's a grown girl by the shape of her, but there's something childlike about her, too.

"I'm s-sorry!" Her lower lip quivers and her face collapses. She heaves an unsteady breath and then freezes, her body tensing. Edward knows that feeling against his hands. She's desperately trying not to cry.

Though he has plans this evening and is late already, Edward just can't find it in him to rush this girl. Not only as a doctor, but as...well, as a human being. His initial frustration turns to concern for her, for Bella, and he lets his hands linger along her slim waistline. Poor thing.

"Shh. There's no reason to cry." He tilts his head to the side, eying the girl in his grasp. "Whatever else you may be, you're in shock. And you're definitely _not_ dressed for this weather." It's something like forty degrees out and the rain speeds down, but she's wearing only jeans and a thin t-shirt that's now thoroughly soaked. He can see the outline of her bra clearly through the cotton. Why the hell isn't she bundled up correctly against the weather? And why didn't she see those motorcycles before she stepped into the street? Biting the inside of his cheek, Edward realizes there's a possibility that stepping in front of the motorcycles wasn't an accident. He clenches his jaw tightly. "Bella, can you tell me where you were going?"

"Hom-m-me," she stutters, the cold of the night beginning to take its toll.

Edward glances around. He isn't near his place at all, or his office. He hopped a bus from work to meet his brother and some friends at a bar about a block away, but that's going to have to wait. Ordinarily in a situation like this he'd call for an ambulance and let the EMTs handle it, but something about the girl shivering in his arms, fighting not to cry, won't let him do it.

"Where's home? Bella?"

She whimpers and her body grows even tenser.

Edward pulls her closer, letting her chilled body rest against his. His hands linger on her waist, and he draws in a breath. Her wet hair smells sweet—girly and fruity and very distracting. "Bella, I need an answer. We can't just stand here forever."

Without warning, she bursts into tears.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_." Muttering, Edward shucks off his light coat and wraps it around her body, tossing the hood up over her dripping hair. He casts his eyes on the ground, looking for a purse since she isn't currently holding one. His eyes catch a small, soggy black messenger bag lying in the gutter and he grabs for it with his foot, scraping it towards them. "Bella, sit for a minute. I need to find out where you live." He lowers her to the wet sidewalk, telling himself that she can't really get any wetter than she already is, and reaches for the bag. Rifling through the contents, he finds what he's looking for—a wallet. It's pink and features two Japanese-looking cartoon characters he doesn't recognize. A faint smile touches his mouth as he opens the wallet, looking for her ID.

There. He finds her driver's license fairly easily and squints at the tiny print in the dim wash of rainy streetlamps. Isabella Swan, age twenty-four. Her ID photo shows a tense, pale girl who doesn't look like she enjoys getting her picture taken. As long as the address on the card is current, it looks like she lives three and a half blocks away.

Three and a half blocks? That's easy. He fishes in her purse and finds a set of keys, pocketing them for the time being. Does he feel a little weird? Yeah, but what else can he do? He doesn't want to turn her over to a set of busy EMTs. She doesn't need a hospital...unless she stepped out in traffic on purpose.

"Come on, Miss Swan. Let's get you home."

She tries to get to her feet on her own, but her knees are so shaky that Edward's afraid she'll hurt herself. "Hold on, baby girl," he says, the pet name slipping from his mouth without his conscious control. "I've got you." Putting away his verbal slip to ponder later, he lifts her delicate little body easily into his arms. Her skin is cold, even at the dip of her lower back where her shirt rides up, and he finds himself rubbing the area gently with his thumb, willing warmth into her.

She's a tiny thing, small like his sister Alice, and Edward carries her with ease as they near her address. Despite his concern for her physical well-being, this feels...strangely good. Her little body is so sweet, and she fits perfectly in his arms. She tucks herself close to him, still crying softly, and the girly smell of her hair swirls around him. He wishes he could soothe her tears, not just her physical hurts. Poor thing. She's just been scared half to death, is probably in shock, and the way he treated her at first is just terrible. He wants badly to make it up to her, to apologize for his harsh words. He had a difficult day at work and the bus was late—she didn't deserve his ire just because she stepped out into the street at the wrong moment.

Her address, when they reach it, turns out to be a shabby little apartment complex, small and wet and miserable-looking, and the nearest streetlamp is out. Edward makes a face. He does _not_ want to leave her here. His mother's an architect, and while he didn't follow her into the profession he knows enough to see that the buildings are not put together well at all. Bella's door sags on its hinges, and the lock is loose when he turns the key. Anyone wanting to get in would have a ridiculously easy time of it.

Still, what else is he supposed to do? Edward pushes open the door, entering into blank darkness.

"Bella?" he says, nuzzling her wet hair gently. "Miss Swan? I'm going to put you down for a minute, okay?"

Her only answer is a whimper, but Edward can't do anything more with her in his arms. He lowers her feet to the floor, careful in the darkness that she's at least steady enough to stand. "Brace yourself against me. Shh, you're fine. You're fine." He fumbles for a light switch, and a yellowy overhead blinks on. Shutting the door and locking it behind them, Edward pulls the shaking girl against him and slides his arms around her as he surveys the apartment.

It's bare and miserable, though it smells sweet—clearly Bella has done her best to keep the place clean despite everything. The walls are dark paneled, clearly not updated since the 1970's, and the floor is cheap linoleum, curling at the edges. A ratty couch sits in the middle of the living room, a pillow and folded blankets stacked neatly at one end. The kitchen is a dark nook to one side of the living area, and a dark hallway wanders off to the other. Thinking that must be where her bedroom is, Edward picks her up again and strides down the hall. One open door leads to a small, clean bathroom, the other to...he guesses it's a bedroom. Maybe? There's no bed, no dresser, just a pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor.

"Um...Bella?" He looks around the bare space. She almost seems like a squatter, there's so little here. "Baby? Where's your bed?"

She sniffles into the crook of his neck, and despite the circumstances, Edward has to smile. The little nuzzle she gives him is too sweet.

"J-jake took it," she whispers, gulping back her tears.

Edward immediately does not like this Jake. At all. One hundred percent does not like him.

"Who's Jake?" He leaves the so-called bedroom and crosses the hall to the bathroom, setting her gently on the closed toilet lid. There isn't anywhere else to put her—the counter is a chipped tile square around the sink, and there's no bathtub, just a shower stall. "Is he your ex?" He wraps her in the towel hanging by the shower. It's the only bath towel in the room, so he assumes it's hers. Also, it's purple. Whoever this Jake is, he probably doesn't like purple.

Bella merely nods, her lower lip quivering again. She sits still as he rubs the towel over her skin and through her hair, neither protesting nor helping. She's been oddly passive about everything, Edward realizes, from the moment he pulled her out of the street. She hasn't protested his harsh words, or his hands on her body. She did not fight him when he picked her up, and she did not stop him from coming home with her. Her sense of self-preservation leaves a hell of a lot to be desired.

"Bella, I'm going to find you some dry clothes, okay? You're in shock, and you need to warm up. You can change and then settle in on the couch with your blankets. How does that sound?"

She merely shrugs, toeing the linoleum floor with her sneaker.

"Come on now. I can't do this all on my own. You have to help, too." He catches her little foot and tugs at the sodden laces, pulling the knot loose.

"I'm s-sorry." A tear rolls down her cheek, then another. She bends and her shaking hands fumble with her shoe. Fat tears spill from her eyes.

"Don't be sorry. Just help me, okay?" Unable to help himself, Edward reaches out and strokes her cheek with his thumb. She's so small, and she seems so sad. "I'll be right back. You work on those shoes."

A faint whimper leaves her when he rises. Edward doesn't like how his chest feels at that noise. It hurts inside him, and he doesn't know how to fix it except by fixing _her_ and...well, people aren't so easily fixed.

Shaking his head to clear it, he moves back into the bare bedroom and kneels by the small piles of clothing. Most of what she has is softly colored in sweet pastels, some with patterns of things like hearts or butterflies. Turning her clothes over in his hands, feeling the soft, clean cotton against his skin, Edward is fully aware of something that has niggled at his mind ever since he got his first good look at her. Her big Disney eyes, the cartoon characters on her wallet, her innocent, trusting nature, and now this? Picking up some pale aqua flannel pajamas, some of the only truly warm clothing he sees here, he stands. Miss Isabella Swan is showing some tendencies he's very attuned to. The question is whether it actually means anything...and if she realizes it.

Returning to the bathroom, Edward sets the clothes on the tiny counter surrounding the sink. Bella doesn't look good at all. She's shaking badly and there's no color to her skin. She'd managed to get her shoes off but struggled with her sodden socks. Frowning with concern, Edward kneels and covers her cold little hands with his.

"I'm s-sorry," she whimpers. "I-I tried..."

"Shh. I'm not mad at you. Hey." He grips her chin lightly with his fingers and tips her face toward his. "Look at me. You're fine. You're just in shock right now."

"B-but—"

"No buts." He carefully removes her socks for her—they _are_ a little difficult, being waterlogged and stuck to her skin—then leans back on his heels. "Do you have a hairdryer here?" He pulls open the cabinet below the sink, not terribly surprised to find it bare except for some spare rolls of toilet paper. No hairdryer. "Okay, tell you what. You keep working on getting into some dry clothes. I'll be right back."

Those sad, sweet brown eyes widen in alarm, and one trembling hand reaches out as if to hold him back. "Please—" she begins, but forces the rest of her words back down her throat.

Instantly, Edward feels his insides melt. "Oh, little girl..." He takes her hand in both of his, wrapping his long fingers around her delicate little fist. "I'm going to be right back, okay? Ten minutes, tops. Here." He fishes his pocket watch out of his pocket and unhooks the fob, pressing the gold circle into her palm. "You can time me with this, pretty thing. I'll be back soon, I promise you."

"P-promise?" she whispers.

"_Pinky_ promise." He offers her his pinky.

The faintest hint of a smile touches her lips, and she hooks her pinky with his, her touch light and soft.

"There now. Pinky promises are unbreakable. Did you know that?"

She shakes her head slightly, and her glassy eyes shed two more fat tears. "Everybody breaks their p-promises."

"Well, I don't." He squeezes her hand with the watch gently, then rises. "Get dressed, little Bella. You need to warm up."

Leaving her there crying and shivering is one of the most difficult things Edward has ever done, and he really doesn't know how to feel about that. She's a stranger, just a girl he pulled out of harm's way. Now he's in her apartment, going through her things. He's seen her panties—not _on_ her, but in a neat pile on the floor of her so-called bedroom. And he bets she doesn't even know his name. His head reels a little bit as he steps out her front door, holding one of the blankets from the couch. What is it about her? Why hadn't he been able to call 911 and let the hospital deal with her shock? Why is he here? Why can't he walk away?

She's heartbreakingly lovely, yes, with her creamy skin and those big Bambi eyes framed with lush lashes. And her need calls to the doctor in him. But that isn't it; that can't be all of it. There's something about her, something he can't name. It isn't just that she clearly has little-girl tendencies, either, because he's seen many, many other little girls, and none of them affect him this way. Even his last girl, alluring as she was, didn't hold a candle to Miss Bella.

Unable to answer his questions, Edward swears under his breath and then clears his throat, knocking at a door two down from Bella's, where light shines from the front window. After several moments a diminutive Latina opened the door, the sounds of several children laughing and screaming in the background.

Taking a chance, Edward asks, "_Perdon por la molestia, pero ¿tienes una secadora de pelo que me puedas prestar?_" He adds his best smile, just in case.

The woman smiles back and fetches a hairdryer, and Edward promises to return it promptly. Then he follows dingy signs to the laundry room, where he tosses Bella's blanket in a dryer and inserts several quarters into the slot. Timing his trip on his phone since Bella has his watch, he makes sure not to stay more than ten minutes.

Still, ten minutes is plenty of time to get the blanket nice and hot, and he hurries it back to Bella's apartment before the heat can dissipate. He finds her still on the toilet lid, huddled in on herself and shivering, though she'd managed to change out of her wet things and into her pajamas. She peers up at him when he clears his throat in the doorway, those big brown eyes opening wide.

"What? Did you think I wasn't coming back?"

She shrugs one shoulder and holds out his watch in a pale, trembling hand. "You'd want th-this back."

Not knowing what to say to that since it's true, Edward shakes out the warm blanket and wraps it around her. She makes a surprised little noise as her hands come up to clasp the blanket to her, and she looks at him with awe.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me your mom never tossed a blanket in the dryer for you?"

"My m-mom left when I was four."

Shit. Way to go. Edward calls himself a million names in his head as he reaches out and gathers Bella in his arms without even asking if she's ready to walk. She hugs herself tightly against him, and he swears he hears a dejected sigh when he lowers her onto the couch.

"I'm sorry," he says honestly, adjusting the blanket so she's cocooned in warmth.

That little half-shrug again. "You didn't know."

Returning to the bathroom, Edward grabs the borrowed hair dryer and what has to be Bella's hairbrush. "This will help you get warmed up in no time," he promises, plugging the dryer in and turning it on. Warm air blows from the duct, and he aims it at Bella's wet hair. Carefully he eases the brush through the sodden snarls, doing his best not to pull.

"I can do that," she argues, though not with any sort of vigor.

"I know you can. But let me?" He watches a little shiver run up her spine. "How do you feel?"

"Stupid." She sniffles. "I didn't do it on purpose. I promise." A frustrated exhale leaves her mouth. "I don't even know your name."

Yeah, he'd thought as much. And he's glad she didn't walk into traffic on purpose. A smile lingers on his face, though he's behind her at the moment and she can't see it. "It's Edward Cullen."

"You look a little young to be a doctor."

"Clean living." He grins. "And I'm just out of residency, sooo..." Her hair is beautiful, and the sweet, fruity smell keeps wafting toward him as he dries it. Delicious.

"W-where do you work?"

"At a family practice across town. I was just on my way to meet my brother and some friends."

She turns in her blanket, wide eyes meeting his. "Then what are you doing here?" She sounds a little horrified at the thought.

"Because you, my dear, are more important." He taps the tip of her nose with his index finger.

A glorious pink color blooms across her cheeks. Oh, that's cute. "You don't even know me," she whispers.

"Yes, I do. Your name is Bella Swan, and you're a very lovely girl in need of some help. What more is there to know?" He smiles softly at her, willing her to understand what he's saying—not that he doesn't want to get to know her better, but that he doesn't need to. Not in order to help her.

"You're awfully nice, Edward Cullen. Or do you prefer Doctor?"

He tilts his head to the side, pretending to consider the question. "Well, since this is an unofficial visit, I think we can dispense with titles. Unless you'd rather stand on courtesy, _Miss_ Swan?"

The barest hint of a smile flickers at the corners of her beautiful mouth. She shakes her head slowly, cheeks still pink. "I like when you call me Bella," she whispers.

"I like it, too." Surprisingly—or not—Edward finds that it's true. He likes the sound of her name in his mouth and the way she shivers ever so slightly when he says it. "Do you want to tell me what happened out there, Bella?"

Instantly the color in her face deepens. It's cherry-red now, and she ducks her head to hide. Gentle but insistent, Edward slips two fingers under her chin and coaxes her head back up. "Hey," he says, "it's okay. I don't want you to be upset. I just want to know what happened."

She sniffles, and when her eyes turn back to him he's surprised to see that they're wet. Fuck. He didn't want to make her cry again.

"I guess I wasn't paying attention," she whispers, and he hates how defeated she sounds. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know you didn't walk out into that traffic on purpose," he says, trying to be soothing even as he asks questions he suspects she doesn't want to answer. "But you were out in the nighttime rain in Seattle in just a t-shirt and jeans. Why weren't you wearing a coat?" He glances around the room, cognizant that he had not seen a jacket in her so-called bedroom. "Bella, do you _have_ a coat?"

She shakes her head slowly, staring at the floor. "Jake took it."

"What the hell would your ex want with your jacket?"

"He bought it."

"So?" Anger burns hot in Edward's gut. What kind of asshole takes their ex's jacket when they leave? The bed was bad enough. "What would a man do with a coat as small as yours, anyway?"

Bella's shoulders hitch in a little shrug. "Give it to some other girl?"

"Some other—was he dicking around on you, little one?" Edward can feel by the tension in her body that her asshole ex was, in fact, cheating on her. How long had she known? Frowning, he turns off the hair dryer and sets it aside. This situation is so strange, and he's not quite sure where the boundaries are. Bella seems willing to let him do as he pleases, but he doesn't want to overstep or presume too much. She's damaged, this sweet girl, and he desperately doesn't want to add to her pain. "Oh, Bella. I'm so sorry."

She sniffles again. "D-doesn't matter. I sh-should have known."

She's crying again. That's it. Edward watches for an instant as her hands move, restless, needing comfort but not sure where or how to get it. Though he's worried about the consequences, he can't just sit here and watch her cry anymore. He picks her up, blanket and all, and sits down on the creaky old couch. She fits perfectly in his lap, small and warm, her eyes wide but her body unprotesting. Her hands land on his shoulders, but she doesn't push him away.

"It matters. It matters a lot," he tells her, stroking her hot cheek with a gentle finger. She's warm now, coming out of shock. Physically, she'll be fine if he leaves her. Realistically, he knows he won't. "Little Bella, how long were you with this guy?"

Her lower lip quivers and her head dips. With the gentlest touch, Edward guides her to his shoulder. She rests her head there, and he feels the warm moisture of her tears against his shirt. "A long time," she whispers. "Four years."

"Since you were twenty?"

She nods against him.

Twenty. Twenty-year-olds are practically still kids. Edward wants to curse. One wrong guy and she's fucked up for years, just because she's quiet and loyal. He can see it in her now—how gentle she is, how she dislikes conflict. The wrong guy could utterly ruin a girl like her.

"When did he leave?" he asks, perversely seeking information even though he knows it's only going to make him angrier. This Jacob guy is gonna be fucked if Edward ever meets him.

"A few weeks," Bella says with a shrug. "I still have about a week and a half left."

"A week and a half left for what?"

"Here." She nods at the dilapidated old apartment.

"You mean..." Edward knew he'd get mad, but not _this_ mad. Had the fucker really just left a girl like this alone with no place to go? "Do you work, Bella?"

She shakes her head. "Jacob didn't want me to."

"So you have no income?"

Her head shakes again. "I was delivering an application when you...saved me."

Saved her. Huh. Guess he did. Not that he thinks of it that way. A small smile curves his mouth, despite his anger at the Jacob kid. "Bella, sweet one, I have a feeling you're in need of a fairy godfather."

"Don't you mean godmother?"

He chuckles. "Maybe some girls get fairy godmothers, but I'm afraid you'll have to accept the aid of the male of the species. If that's all right with you?"

She tips her head up to look at him. "I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"

It's a reasonable question. "Because I want to," he answers, which is the truth, as far as it goes. "Now, will you humor me, please? I want you to rest tonight, go to sleep early. I'll be back tomorrow after work and we'll see what's to be done then."

Her face falls, and he hates the look of desolation he sees in those beautiful brown eyes. "You mean you're leaving?"

"For now, little one. Just for now." He fishes his pocket watch out of his pocket again and hands it back to her. "You keep that, okay? It's a promise that I'll be back."

"I don't want you to go."

"I know." He slips his arms around her compact little body, allowing himself a gentle hug. She feels too good in his arms. "But fairy godfather magic, unfortunately, isn't instantaneous. We have to do some planning. You rest, and tomorrow we'll talk some more."

"Pinky promise?" She holds out her hand, little pinky finger crooked.

Edward smiles. "Pinky promise."

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A/N: I don't have a posting schedule for this one. Just as it comes to me. Thank you to all my awesome readers and reviewers!


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This update is for _**anhanninen**_, whose birthday was Friday (I know, I'm a little late!). Happy birthday, hon!_

_All standard disclaimers apply._

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**Fairy Godfather**

Edward's ridiculously late by the time he reaches the bar, but he texted his brother Emmett earlier, and he doesn't really care how late he is. Bella's more important, just as he told her.

"Dude," Emmett says, reaching out a fist to bump. "Thought you might not make it."

"What was so important?" Jasper asks, slouching in his chair. Edward joins them, stealing two Cajun-spiced tater tots from the basket in the center of the table.

"Probably a girl," Emmett mutters loud enough that he means to be heard.

Edward doesn't take the bait. "Technically it _was_ a woman," he tells his brother and his best friend. "She needed some medical attention."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Emmett snickers. "Hey!" He grabs for the basket of tater tots as Edward steals another.

"Don't be crude," the waitress tisks, setting a Red Hook in front of Edward without being asked. "Any food today, doc? What can I get you?"

"A cheeseburger, as rare as the cook can legally make it, and an application, please."

This is a regular hangout for Edward and his brother, and the waitress knows him well enough to grin. "You thinking of changing careers so soon, doc? I thought you got a job not too long ago."

"It's for a friend," Edward says, smiling back without hesitation. Inside, though, he's wondering. Can he really call Bella a friend? He only just met her, and yet something in him knows this relationship could be so much more than friendship, if he's reading the signals from her correctly. Regardless, he aims to help her. If something more happens between them, it will only sweeten things.

So is Bella his friend? For the moment, he supposes so. Until he decides whether he wants to pursue a deeper relationship.

"You want to tell me about this 'friend'?" Emmett says, making exaggerated air quotes around the word. "How come I haven't heard about them before?"

"It's Rosalie," Edward deadpans, not missing a beat. "I thought some customer service experience might improve her attitude."

Jasper's taking a drink, and he snorts beer through his nose. "Ow, fuck!" He grabs for napkins with one hand, pinching his nose with the other. "Warn me before you say shit like that!"

"Not cool, bro. _Not cool_." Emmett shakes his head. "Just because you like your girls all tame and shit—"

Edward raises an eyebrow. Emmett might be older and considerably bigger than him, but that one glance stops him mid-sentence.

Damn right it does. Emmett only knows the very basics about Edward's taste in women and has no business mouthing off about it. Edward, however, knows Emmett's girlfriend very well. Unfortunately. Rosalie Hale is a bitch and a half. Not even their sweet sister Alice can stand her.

Talk drifts toward work—Jasper's in construction and Emmett's very slowly working toward a degree in sports medicine—and after a while, the waitress brings Edward's burger and a paper application.

"Cook would only go medium-rare since it's ground beef," she tells him as she lays the hot plate on top of the application.

"Medium rare is perfect," Edward assures her. He assembles his dinner and takes the first juicy bite as Jasper winds up a story about missing power tools the foreman blamed on some new guy. Working construction is hard in Seattle. They don't get extra pay because the weather's miserable nine months out of the year. Back during their undergrad days Jasper had wanted to be an engineer, but he dropped out soon after the start of his junior year and never went back.

"I swear to god," Jasper says, "they blame everything on the new guy. If your friend gets a job here, Ed, you better make sure she doesn't get the same treatment."

Edward's sat in this place nursing a beer many times, and he's seen plenty of interactions between the management and the staff. He wouldn't send Bella someplace he didn't trust—not on his life. There's a good atmosphere here, and he thinks it might make a reasonable spot to work. Bella isn't outgoing, but she's sweet and pretty enough to make good tips, and this isn't the kind of dive where waitresses are expected to sex themselves up for the clientele. No way would he release the hounds on his pretty little Bella like that. But she needs to be able to work and earn her own money, even though he fully intends to get her the hell out of that crummy apartment as soon as possible. It'll be good for her psyche, if nothing else.

As he talks casually with the guys, part of Edward's mind is elsewhere. He waited until Bella fell asleep before he left her, and he's pretty sure she'll be okay for the night. He's not leaving her in that shithole tomorrow, though. No fucking way. Realistically he knows he ought to just get her a nicer apartment and back the fuck off, but he also knows himself, and he knows how he feels about this girl. He's not gonna be able to back off, even though he should. She's got no self-preservation instincts whatsoever, and so he's pretty sure she's coming home with him tomorrow. He'll be able to help her better that way, he tells himself. It's true, as far as it goes...which isn't far.

His arms ache. God, he wants to hold her again. He hopes she's sleeping well. Part of him wishes he could go check on her before heading home, but he left her key with her and he's not waking her up by pounding on her front door. She needs her sleep after the close call she had tonight. So he resists the urge, but only just. Tomorrow is soon enough, he tells himself firmly. Tomorrow's Saturday, and because he works at a private practice, his weekends are his own. He plans to sleep in a little and then head back to Bella. If all goes well, she won't spend another night under that saggy apartment roof.

After saying goodbye to Jasper and Emmett, Edward hops the bus back toward home. Home for him is a three-bedroom Craftsman in the Queen Anne neighborhood of Seattle, and as he walks up the little flagstone path toward the wide porch, the motion-sensor light clicks on. It gives the dark house a homey feel, and Edward smiles as he unlocks the door and slips inside. He's lucky his parents were able to finance his early years, so he's not living in an apartment like Bella's while trying to pay back the price of his education. Someday he'll do the same for his children—it's no longer feasible to tell someone to lift themselves up by their bootstraps, especially if they need a lot of schooling to achieve their dreams, and Edward doesn't intend to put his kids at a disadvantage, when he's ready to have them.

Right now he's not thinking about kids, though. He's thinking about one delicate young woman asleep across town, and his crooked smile widens as he imagines her here, in his home. He'll give her the guest room, of course, and tell her that she can decorate as she wishes. She needs to learn to take care of herself, like earning her own money. Whatever she needs, he can teach her. Though if she doesn't know how to cook, god help them both. They'll have to make do with _his_ cooking, or get his mother or Alice to teach her.

Tossing his mail on the kitchen counter, he heads upstairs and flicks on the light in the guest room. It's...a guest room. Bland, not much to it. Original hardwood floors and high ceiling—that's good—but the walls are off-white and the tan-and-brown mottled bedding on the carved sleigh bed is...well, boring. Not that he really cares, generally speaking, but this isn't the sort of room Bella will like. He can already tell. She likes pretty colors, and this room is definitely wanting in that area.

Oh well. It just means she'll get to pick out exactly what she wants.

He goes to sleep in his own room that night, anxious for what the morning will bring.

* * *

The good thing about working in private practice as opposed to a hospital is no evening or weekend hours, and Edward takes full advantage of his free Saturday morning to sleep in, then sit on the couch in some rare late-fall sunshine and enjoy a cup of coffee while making a list of things to do today.

First and foremost, he has to go get Bella and convince her to leave her shitty apartment behind. He's not sure how he'll accomplish this, but he doesn't doubt that he's capable. That girl hasn't an ounce of self-preservation instinct. Normally a young, pretty thing like her would be wary enough not to go home with a complete stranger, but after last night Edward isn't worried that she'll turn him down. Even through her shock, he knows she felt the same thing he did—the first flickers of attraction, the sense that this meeting could turn out to be very, very good.

Plus, she's desperate. She said so herself—in less than a month she'll be homeless unless she gets a job. Edward's not stupid. Even if she lands a job tomorrow, she won't have enough money to pay rent by the time it's due. Grimacing, he sets his now-lukewarm coffee aside, watching a squirrel skitter across the tiny patch of lawn that passes for his front yard. Poor thing. What would have happened to her if he hadn't come along? Yeah, there are social services meant to help people in her situation, but these things take time to apply for and get accepted. There's no real stop-gap measures, as far as he knows. And though there's no doubt in his mind that her ex-boyfriend, Jacob, is an emotionally abusive fucktard of a human being, there's no evidence—yet—that he hurt her physically. Is abandoning her with nothing bad enough that Bella could get help at a domestic abuse center? Edward honestly doesn't know, and he's skeptical. So many people in the world are in need of help, and there aren't enough resources to go around.

Well, he's going to help this one person.

Decided, he takes a quick shower and dresses in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, slipping a hoodie over his wet hair. Since the sun is out he forgoes a jacket, slipping his wallet in his back pocket and hooking a carabiner with his keys to his belt loop.

On the way to Bella's he stops at Starbucks for more coffee, getting Bella something filled with sugar and chocolate, topped with a mountain of whipped cream. He adds two slices of lemon poppyseed bread to the order, and he's back in his Volvo in less than ten minutes.

The city is beautiful in the late summer sunshine, washed clean by last night's rain. Windows wink and gleam as he drives past, and the trees and lawns are still lush and full and green. Soon enough everything will wither, growing grey and bleak until next spring, but today the city's putting on a rare show. Edward's insides feel just like the blue and yellow air hovering over his city. It's Bella. Bella makes him feel like this—full of hope. He's a young doctor just starting out in his career. He made it through the grueling gauntlet of med school and residency, and now he finally gets to settle down to some gainful employment at reasonable hours. He's well-off financially, not bad looking, and there's a girl occupying his thoughts as he turns into her neighborhood.

Edward doesn't often meet girls the way normal people do. Plenty of women hit on him when he's out, but his tastes are very specific and he's doubtful he'd ever find what he's looking for outside of the Internet. He found his last two girlfriends there—the only two he's had since deciding he doesn't want to waste his time with a regular vanilla relationship when that's not what he really wants.

But Bella's different. He thinks she probably would have caught his eye even if she hadn't been about to walk into traffic last night. Though she's a grown woman, she acts extremely young. It's...a hopeful sign.

When he reaches her apartment complex, he parks amid the cracked blacktop and angles himself out of the car, holding a coffee cup in each hand and pinching the top of the pastry bag between two fingers. He carefully knocks on her door, hoping she's awake. He doesn't want to disturb her, but he just can't wait any longer.

The door opens almost immediately, and big velvet brown eyes widen when they see him. Her pretty pink mouth drops open just a little and she hangs on the side of the door, staring up at him for a long moment.

Jesus Christ, she's pretty. Edward finds himself staring, too. His mouth, already smiling, slants a little wider. "Hi," he says, watching in amusement as two spots of pink appear in her cheeks. "It's Edward. Remember me?"

Her mouth closes and she swallows; he watches the movement in her lovely throat. Gorgeous little girl. "I thought maybe you were a dream," she murmurs as she pulls the door further open and steps aside so he can come in.

"Ah." He steps inside, noting that the apartment looks even worse in daylight. It smells old, too, underneath the sweet fragrance of whatever Bella uses to clean. She's really trying her best with this place.

Well, she won't have to anymore. Not after today.

"Here," Bella says, pulling his pocket watch out of the front pocket of her jeans. She's dressed for the day already, in light-colored jeans that are flattering without being too tight, and a baby blue t-shirt with a cartoon owl on it.

"Trade." Edward offers her the coffee cup containing her mocha concoction, and she takes it carefully before setting the watch in his palm. He watches in amusement as she lowers her nose to the lidded cup and breathes in deeply.

"Mmm..." A warm smile slides over her expressive mouth. "That smells _so_ good!"

"Good." Edward can't help but mirror her smile. She's so goddamned cute. "I can't stomach that much sugar in the morning, but I thought you might like it."

"I do," she says, taking a hesitant sip to test the temperature. Her eyes flutter and she swallows thickly. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"You're very welcome. I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes?"

"Of course." She smiles up at him and leads the way to the couch. Her blankets are neatly folded once more, and Edward takes a seat on a sagging cushion. "I...didn't quite believe you'd come back, honestly."

"Even though I left this?" Edward holds up the watch. "Here." He hands her the bag with the lemon poppyseed bread. She sets it down on the couch, intent on her coffee.

"That's the one thing I couldn't explain away," she says, licking whipped cream from her upper lip. Edward's mouth waters, and it's not for the sugar. "I mean, you talked about me needing a fairy godmother—godfather, sorry. That's so strange, right?" Her face pinks again. "And you were so sweet. You held me..."

"You needed it." Edward sets his coffee on the old brown carpet, wishing she had a coffee table.

"Yeah. Thank you—for everything. I...thank you doesn't seem like enough."

"It was, and continues to be, my very great pleasure. I assure you."

Her blush is still apparent as she reaches forward, tracing some of the engraving on the pocketwatch. "This is beautiful," she says softly. "It looks valuable. I still don't know why you left it with me. You don't even know me."

"It's more valuable than you think," Edward says, smiling. "It's my great-grandfather's, so there's a great deal of sentimental value. And I left it with you because I trust you."

"But why? You don't know me."

"You didn't know me, either, but you let me come home with you last night. You let me take care of you."

She winces, which Edward also finds cute. "Not the smartest thing, I guess. But...I don't know...there's something..." She looks as if she's searching for the right words. Not finding them, she shrugs. She's not looking at him anymore, staring instead at the pastry bag between them on the couch.

Edward pockets the watch, reaching out with his other hand. His fingertips ghost across her pink cheek, feathering down to reach her chin. Slowly, gentle as a breeze, he lifts. Her eyes meet his—searching, questioning. So beautiful. So honest. "You feel it, too," he murmurs, grazing his thumb along the delicate line of her jaw.

She swallows but doesn't pull away. Her words, when she speaks, are a whisper. "I feel like you could hurt me badly, Edward."

So she _is_ nervous. It's not a bad thing. He cradles her chin in his fingers a little firmer. "I won't." Without words, he knows she's not talking about physical hurt. This is something else—something more profound.

"But you could." She swallows. The fingers gripping her coffee cup are white. "After Jake...I don't even know what's left of me. But you...you're different."

Fuck yes, he is. He's nothing like that fucker. "I could never do what he did," he tells her, and it's the truth. Even if he had a girlfriend who cheated on him with his best friend, he wouldn't leave her with nothing like Jake left Bella.

"I'm scared."

It's the first reasonable response she's had to him since they met. Edward shifts, cupping her cheek in his hand, cradling her face as one would cradle a baby bird fallen from the nest. "I know, and those instincts aren't bad. This is ludicrous, right?"

She nods; he feels it against his palm.

"But you feel something else, too—this feeling—this pull."

Another nod.

"I won't hurt you. I _won't_. Listen to me, Bella." He lifts his other hand, seeking her. Her warm hand wraps around the back of his, their fingers threading together as if they've always known how to do this. "I feel very...protective...of you. I want to help you. And I swear, my help doesn't come with a price. We can be friends, just friends, if that's all you want—if that's all you can handle right now. I know it hasn't been very long since that asshole left you, and I can tell that you're still hurting. That's okay."

She exhales and turns her head to the side, into his palm. She doesn't kiss him, but her lips are right there against his skin and Edward can feel that touch burn straight through him. "Everything in me wants to ask you why me," she says quietly. Her eyes flick toward him. He's caught and held in that deep velvet gaze. "But if you feel this, too..."

"I do," he assures her. "And that's part of the reason why. But the other part..." Reluctantly he drops his hand from her cheek, but he keeps hold of her hand. "It's just part of who I am," he says with a little shrug. "I like taking care of people. Maybe that's why I became a doctor—not that I see you as a patient, because I don't. But I have this need...this want..." He shakes his head. "I know this is crazy. Believe me, I know. But I want to help you. Please, let me help you. Let me take care of you."

"I don't know what that means." She lowers her gaze to their linked hands, squeezing his gently with her fingers. "Jake always said I needed taking care of because I couldn't do it myself..."

"That's _not_ what I mean." Edward tugs gently on her hand, gaining her attention again. He wishes she wouldn't compare him with that fucker, but he guesses it's sort of reasonable. Doe she have anything else to compare him to? "I don't mean to imply that you're incompetent in any way. But you're in a difficult situation, and there are things I'm willing to bet you never learned how to do because Jacob insisted on doing them. Am I right?"

"Well, he took care of the money and stuff," she says quietly. "He said I was useless for that. I was never great at math—I mean, I got good grades in high school, but—"

"Did you ever go to college?"

She shakes her head.

"Did you want to?"

"Kinda...but there was no money. My mom left when I was really little and then my dad died in a car accident when I was thirteen. He was a cop. His best friend was Jake's dad, and they took me in, but I couldn't ask them to pay for school and Jake wasn't going." She shrugs.

"Oh, baby girl. You've had about enough heartache for an entire lifetime already, haven't you?" He squeezes her hand, wishing he could hold her but not sure she'll accept it right now. It's clear that she and the asshole ex have a long, complicated history, and Edward doesn't need to hear the whole thing yet. It's enough for now to know that Bella's been hurt badly by multiple circumstances and he has to be very, very careful with her. The last thing he wants to do is hurt her more.

Tears shine in her beautiful eyes. She tries to blink them back, but one spills over. "I just...this thing with Jake, and not knowing what to do now..." She sniffles. "I just want to let it go, but I don't know how!"

This time Edward doesn't question his instinct to soothe her. He pulls her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her soft body. She slips her arms around his neck, hugging herself to him, and he can feel the struggle within her—she knows she shouldn't trust him, but she does and she's tired of fighting it.

"Then let it go, sweet girl," he says. "Give it to me for a while. I can't make the hurt go away, but I can help. I promise I can help."

She buries herself in his arms, and he can feel the moment she makes her decision. "Okay," she whispers, her words round and wet as she struggles to bring her tears back under control. "Okay."

* * *

She doesn't argue when he tells her to pack up her clothes and toiletries. She has no luggage, not even a duffel bag, but the apartment manager gives Edward a few boxes when he asks, and it's enough to hold most of her worldly possessions. Everything else is worthless, and Edward leaves it in the shitty apartment. Bella won't get her deposit back—or, rather, Jacob won't. That thought gives Edward a little satisfaction.

More comes when he sees Bella close the trunk of his Volvo, chewing nervously on her lower lip. Gently he tugs her lip free of her teeth, trading a reassuring smile for her anxious look. "Everything will be okay," he promises her. "Fairy godfather, remember?"

She nods and he taps her nose, making her smile. "What now?"

"Now," he says, "we go home." Man, he gets a lot of satisfaction saying that.

But they don't end up going straight back to Edward's house. They stop for groceries since Edward doesn't have much at home.

"I hope you'll excuse the way I eat," he says, eyeing the shelves of Lean Cuisine in the frozen food aisle. "I never really learned how to cook."

"I can cook," Bella offers, a little shyly. "I actually really like it."

"Oh, excellent!" Edward shuts the freezer door. "I'll follow your lead, then. Do you want the cart, or shall I?"

Bella turns red. "I don't—I mean, Jake didn't really leave me any money and—"

"Hey, don't worry about that." Edward catches her hand and holds it in his, loving the way her delicate little fingers curl around his. "I'm going to teach you how to budget, yes, but I don't expect you to pay for anything. Certainly not right now, anyway. So just relax."

"I still want to contribute," she whispers.

"Are you kidding? You're saving me from those disgusting boxed dinners. That's going above and beyond!"

"Really?" She looks skeptical.

"I swear. My mom's a great cook but I didn't inherit her skill, unfortunately. And when I was in residency I didn't have time to even try. Some home cooking would be a huge treat."

Bella's lower lip disappears into her mouth again. It's an adorable little nervous habit, and Edward lets her be for a few moments, giving her the time she needs to process his words.

"Let me take care of you," he says, his voice softer, though there's only one other person in the aisle, way down at the other end. "You're not trapped, or beholden. Please. I want to do this."

With a deep breath, Bella raises her eyes to his again. "Okay," she says. "In that case, we should do this right."

"There's a right way to grocery shop?" Edward smiles as, conflict over, he follows her down the aisle.

"Of course there is. Didn't your mom teach you?" Bella turns her head and smiles at him, and the expression makes her eyes sparkle. Edward feels an ache begin deep in his chest. This thing between them is growing fast. He can't explain in words how it makes him feel, and maybe that's the point. Maybe it goes beyond what he can describe even to himself. He pushes the cart dutifully, following the sway of her long, silky hair as she leads him to the produce section. "First, you decide what you want to cook. How many meals?" She stops and looks at him expectantly.

"Um...I don't know. I usually buy a week's worth of those godawful dinners at a time."

"Why do you eat them if you don't like them?"

"Because everything else that's ready to eat is way worse for me. All that fat and sugar and sodium." He wrinkles his nose. "I _am_ still a doctor, even though I can't cook."

"So you want a week's worth of healthy food?" Bella stares at a display of purple cabbage, her weight on one leg, tapping her lips with a finger as she thinks.

"Healthy-ish," Edward amends, smiling. She's attacking this problem of groceries with ferocious solemnity. He loves it. "I mean, I wouldn't say no to some good old-fashioned pasta or anything."

Her eyes flick to the side, appraising him. "Do you like lasagna?" she asks, a little hesitant. "I can make it full of veggies."

"Bella, I would gladly die for some homemade lasagna. You have _no_ idea." His mouth is watering just thinking about it.

"Are you sure?" She bites her lip again. "Jake didn't like it. He said—"

Edward stops her with a finger against her mouth. "I don't give a flying fuck what Jacob said. What do we need for lasagna?"

She gains confidence as they pick their way through the store. Edward has never shopped for real food before and it's an even better experience having Bella with him. She moves with barely-contained exuberance through the aisles, picking up things for their meals. The produce section is where she spends the most time, but she also buys fresh chicken breasts and salmon fillets, ground meat for the lasagna, several different kinds of cheese, and bags of stuff from the baking aisle.

"What's that for?" he asks as she lifts a bag of flour.

"Bread." She carefully rearranges the items in the grocery cart so the flour doesn't smash anything.

"Actually, I don't have a bread machine." He's full of regret, wishing he didn't have to douse her enthusiasm. "We can get one," he adds swiftly. "But I don't have one right now."

She stares up at him. "A bread machine? Why would I need a bread machine?"

"Um...to make bread?"

A delighted smile breaks across her face, and the cutest giggles drop from her mouth. "I don't need a bread machine to make bread!"

"You don't?"

"No...silly fairy godfather." Her cheeks turn pink again, but she's still smiling.

In another aisle, Edward watches as she looks longingly at brightly-colored packages of crackers and cookies. He can't quite tell what it is she wants.

"Edward..." Her voice is so hesitant.

"What is it, baby girl?" He's standing behind her and he leans down, resting his chin on her shoulder. She giggles, skittering away from the tickling touch. "What do you want?" he asks again, nodding to the shelves.

Her smile shifts; she looks embarrassed. "Teddy Grahams," she whispers. Her eyes drop to the floor. "It's silly, I know."

She's making to turn and walk away from the display when Edward catches her hand. "Which flavor?"

"Really?"

"Really." He snags a box she points to and drops it in the cart. It's becoming clearer and clearer to him that he has to let little Miss Bella in on his secret...and soon. It's ridiculous having her embarrassed to admit a juvenile desire to him. He bets Jacob made fun of her for wanting teddy-bear shaped graham crackers or panties with hearts on them, but he's no Jacob. He's a million times better for her than that asshole.

Now if he can just make Bella see it.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This chapter's for _**myonlyheroin**_ (_**myheroin1**_ on Twitter) because she's awesome. ILY, lady-kins! Also,_ **bakergirl24**_ hit the nail on the head with some of her musings in her review! You rock!_

_All standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

**Fairy Godfather**

"Oh, wow," Bella says as Edward holds the front door for her to enter first. "This is your home?"

"And yours, too, for now." He watches with amusement as she slips into the house, eyes wide, taking in the high ceilings and antique woodwork, breathing in the smell of old wood and plaster. It's a nice smell, mellow, slightly spicy. Sunlight gleams through the windows, dust motes dancing golden in the air. "What do you think?"

"I love it!"

"Why don't you help me put the groceries away, and then I'll give you a tour?"

Bella follows him to the kitchen, which she also exclaims over. "Is that an induction cooktop?" She sounds awed as she runs a light fingertip over the smooth stovetop.

"Yep." Edward grins. "My mom supervised a kitchen remodel after I bought the place, since I don't know what the hell I'm doing in here. I managed to burn some water when I tried to boil it, and I set the smoke alarm off cooking a steak—I figured if I can grill outside, inside couldn't be that much more difficult. But it was, and I've sworn off using anything but the microwave and coffee maker ever since."

"Was your steak good, at least?" she asks, head buried in the crisper as she puts away various vegetables. Edward hands her items for the refrigerator one at a time, amused by the way she very deliberately places things on this or that shelf.

"No. It was charcoal on the outside, raw inside. I like my steak pretty rare, but it was still cold. I don't know how I managed to do that."

"Well, I bet you had the heat up too high, for one." She closes the refrigerator and brushes her hair out of her face, smiling shyly at him. "I can make you some steak sometime, if you want."

"Or I can grill outside for you." He puts a hand on the small of her back, leading her gently through the doorway to the dining room.

"Pocket doors!" She brushes a hand across the latch of the sliding door hidden in the wall. "I love pocket doors."

"They were originally so you could hide the kitchen and the hired help from the diners."

"I know." Bella pulls the door out a few inches. It runs smoothly thanks to careful restoration. "But that doesn't make them any less beautiful."

"You like old houses?"

She nods, glancing around the dining room. Edward usually eats standing up in the kitchen, but there's a small table and chairs on an ornate Oriental rug and a built-in cabinet with glass doors where normally the woman of the house would display her good china. Having neither a woman of the house nor good china, the shelves sit empty.

"I like old things in general," Bella says as they move through another doorway into a hall, then into what would have originally been the house's parlor. Edward uses it as an office, and there is a big desk and an expensive executive chair as well as a butter-soft leather couch and several tall bookshelves filled with medical texts and journals. Bella exclaims over the Tiffany lamp on his desk—another touch courtesy of Esme Cullen—and he can tell that she wants to reach out and touch the colorful glass peacocks on the shade, but she links her fingers behind her back resolutely and refuses the urge. "I like how things were made to last, made with care. How they were meant to be beautiful as well as functional."

"You'd like my mom. She thinks the same way."

Bella glances up at him. "She sounds really great."

"She is." Edward really did hit the jackpot in the family department. He has a father he can both love and look up to, the most wonderful doting mother, and siblings he gets along with. His poor little Bella, on the other hand, is all alone in the world.

Before she met him, that is. Not now. Not anymore.

When they head upstairs and reach the guest bedroom, Edward feels a little nervous. He fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt, opening the door and letting Bella step inside first. Clearing his throat, he says, "This will be your room, if that's okay with you." God, he hopes it's okay with her. "I know it's not really your style. We can go get you some things that are more feminine."

"You don't need to do that," she protests, turning slightly to take in the room. It's big—almost as big as the master bedroom—and since this is a corner room, there are windows on two walls that let in streams of sunshine.

"I want to. I want you to be happy here with me."

"I am." She turns to him, those beautiful brown eyes alight with pleasure. "Trust me, Edward, I am. Nobody's ever been this nice to me. It's like a dream." Her mouth twists into a wry smile. "Or a fairy tale."

"Your fairy godfather aims to please."

She steps closer, daring greatly, and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you," she whispers as his arms close around her warm little body. "Thank you so much."

"Oh, baby girl, I've barely begun." He squeezes her tight for a moment, just enjoying the feel of her in his arms. She's been through so much, and yet she's so sweet and trusting. It must be something inherent in her nature, something that's intrinsically a part of her. He wants to nurture that sweetness, give it room to grow. All the awful things that have happened to her are like weeds choking the delicate blossom that she is, and he wants to tend to her, nurture her, be what she most needs in this world. How this happened so fast he's not sure. Maybe sometimes things are just meant to be. "Come with me."

He leads her back downstairs and into his office, and they settle on the couch. "We need to talk about some things so we're clear about what's going on here."

Bella nods slowly, twisting her hands together in her lap. She's nervous, and he understands. Though they feel this mutual pull, they're still very much strangers. Bella's alone in his house with him, and she has no idea what he wants from her, only his reassurances that he won't hurt her.

"We've already agreed that you need help and I want to provide it. That goes without saying. But we haven't really talked about what that means."

"I want to be able to support myself," Bella whispers, glancing from him to her clenched hands and back again. "I don't like to feel beholden."

"I know. I don't think anybody likes that feeling. I don't want you to feel that way, but I guess realistically it only makes sense. _I_ don't feel as if you're beholden to me. This is something I want to do for you. But I don't think there's anything I can do to ease your mind on that subject. It may just take time."

"I want to work. I want to feel like a contributing member of society."

"I totally get that, and it's a good idea." Edward rises and crosses to his desk. He opens a drawer and pulls out a spare key to the house. "Here." He hands it to her. "I don't want you to feel trapped here. You're free to come and go as you wish, of course. Do you drive?"

She shook her head. "I always lived in the city. There was never a need to learn, and Jake's dad couldn't afford to get me a car."

"Well, I'd be happy to teach you if you want to learn."

"Really?" Her eyes light up.

"Yes, really. It's a useful skill, even in the city. I usually commute on the bus because it's easier than driving, but I do use my car for errands and whatever."

"I'm nervous," she says, biting her lip, "but I think I'd like to learn."

"Then we can work on that." Edward finds her hand and gives it a squeeze. "Feel free to use this as your official address when you're filling out applications. Do you have a cell phone?"

She nods. "Prepaid, but yeah."

"Good. I didn't bother getting a home phone set up when I moved in here. My cell is good enough." He adjusts himself on the couch, watching her reactions carefully. He's going to have to give her money for things like her cell phone bill, and he knows she won't like it. But she needs the support until she finds a job and starts earning her own paycheck. "Now, there's the issue of school."

"School?" Her dark eyes light with surprise.

"You said you wanted to go, and I think you should. It's too late to enroll for fall term, but you could audit a class or two if you want—think of it as a trial run. College is important, especially if you want a career."

"But it's so expensive." Her lip is in her mouth again, and she bites down hard. Edward winces; he hates seeing her hurt herself.

"It's worth it." Yes, higher education is expensive, but she deserves it. His voice gentles. "What was your dream, Bella? Back before your dad died, or maybe when you were in high school. What did you dream of doing? Whatever it is, the option is right here in front of you now. You can have that dream back."

Those pretty eyes of hers, always so expressive, fill with tears. "Y-you mean it?"

"One hundred percent." He holds his hand out toward her, pinky cocked. "Pinky promise."

A sound between a laugh and a sniffle escapes her, and she links her pinky with his. One tear drops, and Edward raises his other hand to brush it away with a gentle thumb.

"What was your dream?" he asks again, hoping she'll tell him. He's so curious about this girl. What did she want? In what direction would she turn, given the chance?

"I had a lot of ideas," she admits, scooting closer to him on the couch, drawn as if by gravity, a planet to its sun. "I thought about becoming a chef, or a veterinary tech. I love cooking, and I love animals."

"Not a veterinarian?"

"I knew vet school was way too expensive," she says with a shrug.

"Well, it isn't now, and U Dub has a well-respected veterinary program. You think about it."

"I always did like science in school." Her voice is soft, considering.

"You can change your mind, you know. You're young, and you have your whole life ahead of you. You can try some classes and if you don't like it, you can try something else."

"I never thought I could be a doctor."

He grins. "You'd be a wonderful doctor for sick animals. You're so gentle and kind. Doctor Isabella Swan. How does that sound?"

She exhales a long breath. "Like a lot of work. I don't even know what it takes to become a veterinarian."

"Less than it takes to be a human doctor, but not by much. It will be a lot of school."

"Maybe," she says, her words slow as she mulls over the idea. "Maybe."

"You don't have to decide today, but I want you to think about it, okay?"

She nods, tractable and obedient.

"Then, when you're ready, I can help you get set up to audit this term, if you want to."

"I think I'd like to, if it's not too much trouble." She blushes, chewing on her lip.

"Nothing is too much trouble for you," he promises. She's impossibly sweet. Helping her feels so good. Part of him feels a little surprised that she could have the ambition to become a vet, but another part of him isn't surprised at all. It's a perfect occupation for someone with as big a heart as she has. The schoolwork will be challenging but if she wants it badly enough, he's sure she'll do well.

"Can—can I ask a question?" Her voice is hesitant and her face turns pinker.

"Of course. Always, sweet girl." He touches her hot cheek, wishing she felt more comfortable but knowing only time will fix this. They don't truly know each other yet—not really.

"What...what are we right now?" Her eyes flick up to him and then back down; she can't meet his gaze. "To each other, I mean. You gave me my own room and you don't expect me to...but this pull..." Her nervous stammer fades and she gnaws on her lower lip, staring at her hands clasped tightly together in her lap.

"It's...a reasonable question." He exhales slowly. Now's the time to tell her, and he's almost as nervous about that as she is. He doesn't know how she'll react, though he assumes she won't go running away. She has nowhere to run _to_. "We're friends. I think we can agree on that. As for this pull, and maybe being something more..." He shifts, anxiety flooding his body. Sternly, he tells it to go away. He's only making Bella even more nervous. "I'm extremely attracted to you. I think you know that by now."

"I'm...attracted to you, too," she whispers, peeking up at him for an instant before averting her gaze again.

"I would very much like to try having more than just friendship with you, but there's something you need to know first."

"What?" Her tiny voice sounds so anxious, and Edward can't stand it. He reaches for her, pulling her against his side. Her body, so rigid with nerves, melts into him in an instant response to his touch. He feels her ground and settle, just as his own body relaxes. This visceral pull between them is strong and real—even after less than twenty-four hours, it seems, their bodies know what their minds can't quite wrap around.

"It's not bad. Please don't be afraid. I just have certain needs when it comes to my relationships, and I need you to know that up front. Then, it's your choice entirely if you want to try to proceed or not."

"You mean you have a kink?" She peeks up at him again, face beet red.

Yeah, he isn't expecting that. "Yes?" He raises an eyebrow at her.

She shrugs. "I've read some things."

"If you mean that Fifty book, that's not what I'm talking about. I haven't read it, but I know enough to say that's not me at all."

Bella blushes deeper. "What do you mean, then?"

"I told you I like to take care of people. What I mean is I have a need to be a nurturer, and that bleeds over into my romantic and sexual life as well."

"So you don't want to tie me up and hit me?"

He laughs. "No. I'll admit a little spanking can be hot as hell when it's consensual, but other than that, no." Suddenly his laugh stops. "Wait a second. Jacob didn't do that to you, did he?"

Bella shakes her head. "No. Toward the end we weren't having sex at all. I guess I should have known he was getting it somewhere else." She shrugs a little.

"Shh. It's okay. I was just curious because I know a lot of men think they're being dominant when they're really being abusive assholes, and I don't want any of that for you." She's too sweet, too innocent. He's fearful of anyone hurting her, even though he knows that the damage from Jacob is already done. "What I mean for me is, I want to be that nurturer in a relationship. I want to be a girl's Daddy." There it is, out there in the open. He waits to see her response, not pushing to explain.

"What exactly does that mean?" She sounds genuinely curious, and she's not pulling away. This is good.

Edward continues. "It means that when I enter a romantic relationship, I want a little girl I can take care of. I want to be called Daddy. I want her to defer to me, and trust that I will always take care of her and look out for her best interests, in and out of the bedroom. It's not about incest, and I'm not a pedophile; I don't want an underage girl. I want a grown woman with a tendency to act young and a need for that nurturing figure in her life."

Bella's chewing on her lower lip, a little crease appearing between her eyebrows as she thinks about his words. "This is...I don't know what to think, exactly. I've never heard of this before."

"You don't have to have an answer right now—about anything. It's perfectly reasonable for you to need some time to think."

"And you don't think you could have a...regular relationship?" She peeks at him again. "I'm not saying...I'm just wondering."

"Honestly, sometimes I wish I could, but I know what I need in order to feel fulfilled in a relationship. Vanilla just doesn't satisfy me completely, and it wouldn't be fair to a potential girlfriend to pretend that it does." He touches her knee, wishing he could see her eyes but she's hiding them again. "Bella, this doesn't change any part of our agreement. No matter what you decide you want, I won't be mad at you. My help won't be withdrawn."

"I just...I'm nervous about giving away all my control," she says. "Not that I have much right now, but..." She shrugs. "Jake made me feel like I couldn't do anything for myself. I don't want to feel that way again."

"And I don't want you to, either." Edward rubs her knee through the fabric of her jeans. It's a reasonable worry. The timing isn't ideal, when she's so fresh out of an emotionally abusive relationship. "Other Daddies might feel differently but, for me, I don't want a slave or an automaton. I want you to still be you, and that includes doing things for yourself at times. Remember, I told you I'd teach you how to budget?"

She nods.

"There wouldn't be much point to teaching you if I didn't expect you to use the information, would there?" He catches her chin in a gentle grasp and lifts. Her eyes meet his, still shy, still nervous.

"But how would I know when to do things for myself and when to let you handle them? How would I know when to be little and when to be big?"

"By talking to me. There are no rules, sweet girl, no right or wrong. We can, together, make whatever kind of relationship we want. I know it's not realistic to ask you to be my baby girl all the time. These are things we'll have to work out as we go. Communication and trust are the important things, and that goes both ways."

She's silent for several minutes, mulling over his words. Edward has questions of his own he wants to ask, and after a while he ventures an attempt.

"Bella?"

"Mm?"

"I want to ask you about Jacob. Is that okay?"

She sighs. "Yeah."

"I know it's not something you want to talk about, but I think it's important for me to know a little more about your relationship with him. You said he didn't tie you up or hit you during sex. Was he ever physically abusive, in any context?"

She shakes her head slowly. "No. He'd yell, and he got pretty scary sometimes when he drank. But he never actually hit me."

"Or push or grab? Anything rough?"

"No. Just his words." A shudder rippled through her. "He could say the meanest things sometimes. He called me worthless a lot. When you hear that stuff enough, it gets to you. I kind of started to believe it."

Edward clenches his teeth, his arms gentle as they wrap around her, holding her close. Part of him wants to find this fucker and teach him a lesson—maybe with Emmett around, for good measure. He's not usually a violent guy, but for Jake he'll make an exception. The guy's scum. End of. "You're so far from worthless, baby girl," he says, voice achingly soft. "You have so much potential. It might be hard to hear that right now, but I believe it and I hope at some point you can, too." He presses his lips carefully to the top of her silky head, breathing in the sweet, girly scent of her. Jacob's the worthless one, not Bella. She's sweet and kind, and he believes she can do anything she wants, when she sets her mind to it. "Did he isolate you?" he asks. "Keep you away from friends and family?"

Bella shrugs. "I don't have any other family except my mom, and she's never come looking for me as far as I know. He didn't like me having friends, though. He wanted me at home."

Yeah, Edward was afraid of that. As a doctor he knows the questions to ask, the warning signs of abuse. Jacob might not have beaten her physically, but he beat her down emotionally. "That's emotional abuse, Bella," he tells her gently. "The yelling, isolation, intimidation, insults—it's textbook, really. And him having total control over your finances is really dangerous. If he did start hitting you, what could you have done? Where could you have gone?"

"Nowhere, I guess," she admits in a small voice, cuddling closer to him. "But it's weird to hear you call it...abuse. It seems so...I don't know. Like that's something that happens to other people, not to me."

"I can't imagine what that must feel like." He kisses the top of her head again. "Bella, think for a minute. Is there _any_ money of yours that he still has access to or control of? I want to make sure you have everything you're entitled to."

"Well..." She frowns. "There was something about money when my dad died...insurance or something like that. Billy, Jake's dad, had me sign some papers. He said he'd take care of everything for me. And Jake had me sign the back of a check every month, but he never told me what it was. I haven't seen anything in the mail since he left."

Shit. Shit shit _shit_. Edward exhales a long breath. He hated Jacob before but now he absolutely loathes the fuck out of him. It sounds like Jake's been stealing from her on top of everything else. Without looking into the situation, it's impossible to know what that check is. Whatever it is, it rightfully belongs to Bella, not Jacob. And this mention of Billy makes Edward wary, too. Maybe the man simply had helped his best friend's daughter get the insurance that was owed to her...but then again, maybe not. Regardless, "We're going to need a lawyer to look into that, Bella."

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Shh, there's no reason for you to be sorry. I just want to make sure we have all the information, and you get everything that's yours." He nuzzles the side of her head gently with his nose, and it's a surprisingly intense gesture. She inhales a quick, soft breath, her body warm and sweet against his. "It's not right for him to take advantage of you in any way, okay?"

"Okay." She swallows. "Edward? Do you mind if I maybe sit by myself upstairs for a while? I have...a lot to think about."

She certainly does. "Of course." He gives her a final gentle squeeze, then releases her. "Help yourself to anything you need. I'll probably be in here if you want to talk later."

"Thank you, Edward."

* * *

After she slips upstairs to her room, Edward has time to think as well. She took his admission about being a Daddy extremely well—as well as he could have expected for someone who isn't familiar with the lifestyle. Whatever happens between them now is up to her, as it should be. He's laid his cards on the table, and he knows she feels the same pull he does. Whether she's willing to try to figure out a relationship is her choice, and he honestly doesn't know what she might decide. Their mutual attraction is very real, but so is her hurt. Jacob didn't hit her, but he fucked up her psyche and that takes time to heal. Regardless of Bella's choice, Edward knows he'll have to handle her very carefully. She's damaged, but resilient. He's confident that, given lots of care and some time, she'll get through this.

Whether he can resist her if she doesn't want to attempt a Daddy/little girl relationship is another question, one he doesn't know the answer to. She's so beautiful, and his body aches when he can't hold her. Whatever this pull is between them, it's happened so fast. Edward doesn't know if he can be happy in a vanilla relationship but, if so, it would definitely be with Miss Bella.

"Fucking hell," he mutters, digging his phone out of his pocket. His parents are probably home, since this is a Saturday. He finds his dad's number and hits call.

"Edward!" Carlisle Cullen answers on the fourth ring. "How are you? It's good to hear from you."

"Hey, dad." Edward stretches out, tossing his legs up on the couch and reclining. "Everything's fine. I had a question for you."

"Shoot."

"I'm trying to help a friend of mine sever ties with her controlling ex-boyfriend. I think he might be stealing from her, but I don't know for sure. Do you know what sort of lawyer we'd need to contact to figure it out?"

"Mmm...not off the top of my head, sorry." Carlisle sounds genuinely sad that he can't answer the question. "Your best bet would probably be to start with a divorce attorney."

"They're not married."

"Doesn't matter. A divorce attorney will know how to proceed if you tell him the particulars. He can point you in the right direction. I suspect it's not all that uncommon, unfortunately, to find one partner stealing from another."

"But isn't it all considered joint money if they're married?"

"Most, but not all. There are exceptions. That's my recommendation—find a good divorce attorney. And bring your friend to dinner next Sunday with the family. She could probably use a good home-cooked meal if she's in the middle of a bad breakup. Somehow that always seems to help."

Edward smiles. His parents are unfailingly kind. He thinks Bella might hit it off with his mother if she's not too shy. "I will. Thanks."

"And don't forget you owe me a rematch at pinochle! Last time you and your mother beat Emmett and me so badly, I demand a different partner."

Edward laughs. "You got it. You and me against mom and Emmett. We might even have a chance at winning if she has to make up for him."

* * *

The sun is slowly setting when Edward looks up from his tablet. Bella's peeking in the doorway, hanging on the door with her lower lip wedged firmly between her teeth.

"Can I come in?" she whispers.

"Of course, sweet girl? Are you okay? What is it?"

She makes her way slowly toward the couch. Edward can see that she's removed her shoes and socks. Her toenails are painted purple. The hems of her jeans slip softly against the hardwood floors as she walks, and her hair is a little messy.

"I was upstairs thinking and I fell asleep," she confesses. In the red-gold sunset light Edward can't tell if she's blushing or not. "I had a bad dream."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

There's a tiny nod, but her face is still awash in anxiety. She's waiting for something.

Without questioning his instinct, Edward puts his tablet on a side table and reaches out his arms. "Come here," he says, gentle and calm. "Come here and tell me."

It's exactly what she wants. He sees the flash of relief cross her face, and she crawls into his lap, straddling him with one leg on each side, facing him. "Daddy," she whispers, snuggling into his chest.

Edward closes his eyes as the warmth of her body settles against him. His arms hold her, firm but gentle, stroking her back and along the silky strands of her hair. "Daddy's here, baby. Daddy's here."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: So, I'm going to be posting this at TWCS as well, for the inevitable time when it gets pulled here. Just FYI._

_All standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

**Fairy Godfather**

God, she's so warm in his arms, her body so soft against his. Edward breathes in the girly smell of her, vanilla and some sort of fruit, his eyes tightly closed. She's here, in his arms, and she called him daddy. She's willing to give this a chance.

He can't scare her. More than anything, he can't fuck this up and scare her away. Not now. Not with the way he feels about t his girl. She's a natural little girl, absolutely perfect. For her sake as well as his, he has to protect her. There are worse men out there than Jacob, unfortunately, and plenty who would be willing to take advantage of a girl like this.

"Tell me about your dream," he murmurs, sliding his fingers slowly through the cool silk strands of her hair. It feels like water against his skin.

"I did something bad." The words are whispered into his shoulder, where she's hiding. She sniffles. "I accidentally left the door unlocked and someone came in and stole a bunch of stuff. You were mad at me. You made me go away. You said you hated me."

"Oh, baby girl. That does sound pretty scary." He rests his lips against her hair, rocking her gently. Not even for a moment does he think of chiding her for thinking he'd hate her. She doesn't know enough of him to really know any better, and if something's coming up in a dream, that means it's a true fear of hers whether she realizes it consciously or not.

"You s-said I had to go away," she whimpers, tightening her grip on him in repudiation of her words. "I felt so lost. Worse than before I met you. I was all alone."

"Being alone is frightening," Edward agrees. One hand slips under the satin fall of her hair, fingers cupping the back of her neck and stroking the warm, silken skin there. It's such an intimate gesture. She shivers in his arms as he soothes her. "I'm so glad you came to me."

"I feel s-stupid." She sniffles again. "But it felt so real!"

"You're not stupid, little one. You're not. This is what daddy's here for." He tightens his arms around her in a firm hug before gentling his grip again. "Now, about this dream—it makes sense for you to dream about being alone. I think that, even when Jacob was around, you probably felt pretty alone a lot of the time. What do you think?"

"Maybe," she allows in a small voice.

"Daddy could never hate you, baby girl. _Never_. And you will always have a home with me."

"Even if I leave the door unlocked?"

He chuckles. "Even then. I would be upset, especially at the thought that someone bad could get in and hurt you. But I wouldn't hate you, and I wouldn't kick you out." Not for the first time, Edward wonders how the breakup with Jacob came about. Did Bella just come home one day to find all her stuff, and her lousy boyfriend, missing? Or was there a fight of some sort? Did he say something to hurt her? Now is not the time to ask, but he wonders just the same.

"You've been under a lot of stress lately," he says, stroking long, capable fingers down her back, searching for the tense knots of muscle he knows are there. "And even though I promise you're safe, you're still somewhere new. That has to be a little scary, huh? What do you think?"

She holds up one hand, index finger and thumb about an inch apart, to show that it is, in fact, just a little scary.

"Yeah, I thought so. It will get better, baby girl. I promise."

A ragged breath fills her, lifting her back under his soothing hand. "Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," he confirms, offering his hand. She links her pinky with his and he feels some of the tension leach from her frame. That's good. This is something she trusts. "You're such a good girl, coming to daddy when you're afraid. Do you feel better?"

She nods slowly against his shoulder and lifts her index finger and thumb in the same gesture as before. Just a little better.

"What would help you feel even better?" he asks. Normally he would do the suggesting, but he doesn't know Bella's likes and dislikes yet. He can make guesses, but he'd rather she tells him what she prefers. Then there's no chance she'll agree just to make him happy.

She's silent for a minute. Edward lets her think. He doesn't want to push and have her shut down. This relationship is so new, and she's not used to the dynamic. Later he'll start showing and telling her his preferences—for instance, he likes eye contact when they're speaking—but now isn't the time to push. Now is the time to hold her and give her whatever will help make her feel better.

"Movie?" she asks after a minute, voice so hesitant, as if she doesn't necessarily expect her suggestion to be taken seriously.

But it's such a simple request, Edward can't think of a reason why he would deny it. He hugs her, proud of her for answering him. She's so unsure, but with time he hopes she'll come to learn that he's lenient and loving, delighted to indulge her whims—the antithesis of how he imagines Jacob. "Of course," he says, his mouth stretching in a crooked, fond smile. "That's a great idea. Why don't you come pick something out?"

She climbs off his lap when he shifts his weight and her big brown eyes peek up at him, dubious. She's not confident that she's acting correctly, and Edward wishes he could easily calm her fears. She's a natural at this; all she needs to do is relax and be herself. He doesn't really expect or want anything else. Extending his hand, he smiles at her and tries to infuse the gesture with everything he feels: his pride in her, his affection, the chemistry that's constantly buzzing just under the surface whenever he's with her.

Her delicate little hand slips into his grasp without hesitation and he raises it, brushing his lips across her knuckles in a soft, sweet kiss. Her cheeks turn pink, so cute, and she returns his smile with a small but hopeful one of her own.

"Just relax," he tells her, voice gentle, coaxing. "Just be yourself, and you'll be perfect."

Surprise lights in her eyes and Edward raises an eyebrow in question, holding her hand and stroking her knuckles with his thumb.

"Nobody's ever, well, said it like that before. Told me to just be myself."

Ah. That makes sense. "Society doesn't allow it very often, does it?" He gives her a rueful smile. "Especially for people who fall outside the norm. I'm guessing you try very hard to appear as adult as possible most of the time, am I right?"

Her head tips forward in a little nod. "How did you—"

"Don't worry. I don't think most people can see it. I'm just more attuned because of who I am. But you don't have to hide that part of yourself around me, Bella. You can be as little as you want, and I won't judge you for it."

"It feels a little weird," she admits, biting her lip. "But...good at the same time. Does that make sense?"

"It does. And I imagine it will continue to feel weird for a little while. This is a part of you that you've been hiding from other people, and I'm asking you to show it to me. I'm sure it feels like it makes you very vulnerable to do that."

"Yeah." A nod and a slow exhale. "That's the word I was looking for. I feel vulnerable, even though you've said you like it."

"I think time and practice are the only things, unfortunately, that will fix that." Edward gives her a crooked smile. "I'm here for you, baby girl. We'll get there together. Okay?"

"Okay." She looks much more relaxed now, and she squeezes his hand. "Do you want me to make you dinner? It's a little late to start lasagna tonight. I'm sorry."

Edward shakes his head. "I'll show you how to access Netflix on the TV and then you can pick whatever movie you want, and I'll order some takeout. You deserve a night to just relax."

He's a little surprised when she doesn't argue with him; he can see the struggle on her beautiful, expressive face before she gives in. Good girl. She doesn't need to be working in the kitchen tonight. He'd far rather sit with her in the living room.

"Big movie or little movie?" she asks instead, biting her lip.

"Whichever you prefer." He taps her nose. "Do you like Chinese food?"

"If I can have noodles and barbeque pork." There's a twinkle of fun in her brown eyes, and it lights something inside Edward to see her in a good mood. She's so perfect.

"Noodles and barbeque pork it is," he agrees, leading her out of the office and into the living room.

The house is dark save for the last rosy tendrils of dusk bleeding through the windows. Edward turns on the TV and shows her how to access Netflix with the remote, then closes the blinds and pulls his phone from his pocket.

"Anything?" Bella asks, chewing on her lip again.

"Anything," he confirms, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as she settles on the couch. Passing out of the living room, he goes to the kitchen to find the grease-spotted takeout menu from his favorite Chinese place. Glancing at the menu, he orders himself beef with broccoli and a spicy mixed vegetable dish, and lo mein and barbecue pork for Bella. He adds two egg rolls and makes sure they remember the rice that comes free with every order—they've forgotten before—before hanging up. While he's in the kitchen he pours iced tea for both himself and Bella and brings the glasses with him back into the living room.

Bella's curled up in the corner of the couch, a throw pillow hugged in her lap. "Thank you," she says when he hands her the tea, and she sips from her glass.

"Sleeping Beauty?" He gestures to the movie cued up on the big plasma TV.

Bella nods shyly. "Is that okay? I always liked the fairies and I haven't seen it in forever."

"It's perfect." Edward sits down, careful not to crowd her. When she's ready, she'll come to him. "You know, Maleficent was the only Disney villain who ever scared me when I was little."

"Ooh, she still scares me!" Bella says with a little shiver. She shifts a little closer. "You won't let her get me, will you, daddy?"

She's only half playing, and Edward knows it. He reaches over and pulls her into his lap. She's been there a lot today, but he likes it. It's where she belongs—so close to him, the slight weight of her body firm and warm in his arms. "_Nobody's_ ever getting you, baby girl," he promises, squeezing her tight. "I'd fight Maleficent for you just like the prince does."

"Really? Even if she turned into a dragon?"

"Especially if she turned into a dragon. Because Maleficent's still a woman, and I was raised to be a gentleman. I'd feel bad if I had to fight her. But I wouldn't feel bad about fighting a dragon."

"Would you be scared?"

"That's the thing about daddies. We're never scared," he assures her, and he's delighted to hear the low, sweet sound of her little giggle. She tips her face up and brushes her lips across his cheek, a quick little kiss, before wiggling in his arms so she's facing forward.

"Movie time?"

"Movie time." Edward hits play, but his attention is on the girl in his lap, not the expensive TV screen. His cheek tingles where she kissed him and his cock has definitely taken notice of the wiggling she did on his lap. She doesn't mention it; whether she can feel it or not, he doesn't know. But it will be a while before he even considers having sex with Bella, so he tries to tell his body to shut the fuck up. She doesn't need sex right now. She needs caring and reassurances until she's more secure with him and their relationship has had more time to grow.

It's not easy, though. His body aches for her. Even though she's in his lap, it's physically painful to feel so separated by their clothing. Yes, his first impulse with her is to nurture, but that's definitely not the only urge he feels toward this girl.

When Maleficent appears on screen, Bella shudders in his arms. She puts her little hands over his and pulls, and he obligingly tightens his grip. "Even her music is scary," she whispers, eyes still on the screen. It's true: her theme is an eerie, unsettling throb of notes, and Edward hugs Bella's back to his front, his lips just barely brushing the shell of her ear.

"Daddy's got you," he murmurs, loving the little shiver that bleeds up her spine at his words. It has nothing to do with the villain on screen.

"I have a fairy godfather to keep me safe." She snuggles contentedly against him, and Edward feels like he's been handed the world in this one little girl.

Their food arrives halfway through the movie and they eat on the couch while the movie plays, Bella giggling at the antics of the good fairies. She offers Edward a forkful of lo mein noodles every now and then, and trades him a slice of barbeque pork for some of his spicy vegetables. He finds that she loves to eat sticky rice drenched in soy sauce, and shudders at the amount of sodium she's putting into her body. With an act of will, he doesn't chide her for it. Now is not the time to question her eating habits. Besides, she picked out plenty of fruits and vegetables at the grocery store and most of her planned meals are really quite healthy. One salty dinner isn't going to kill either of them. He watches in amusement as she picks through her noodles for the bits of carrot and palm heart, savoring the chunks of vegetable.

"I haven't had Chinese in a really long time," she says, smiling at him. "Thank you, daddy."

"You're very welcome, baby girl." She has a tiny smear of sauce on her full lower lip and Edward reaches out, cleaning it away with his thumb. Unable to help himself, he brings his thumb to his mouth, licking away the sauce. Bella's eyes are locked with his and he watches her swallow hard, her mouth falling slightly open.

Without breaking their gaze she slowly shifts her body, tucking her legs under her and turning toward him. In this position she's almost eye to eye with him despite her tiny size. Her head tips toward his slowly, as if in a trance.

Edward doesn't stop her. He feels almost trancelike as well, caught in the pull of those big brown eyes. She's so warm, so close. A soft breath washes over his cheek and he watches, enthralled, as Bella's tongue slowly licks her soft lips.

That should be _his_ job.

A moment later, it is his job.

Her mouth meets his gracefully, her movement neither hesitant nor frantic—it's as if she knows this is exactly where she's supposed to be in this moment. Her body melts into his as she gives him the sweetest kiss he's ever received. She makes a soft, wanting noise in her throat, mouth parting, capturing his upper lip with a sensual little tug.

That's it. Edward can't hold still anymore. His arms curl around her, bringing her body closer as he tilts his head to a better angle. Slow, wet kisses, unhurried, lips and then tongue as well, learning the taste of her, the shape of her mouth, what makes her breath hitch or her body tremble. His fingers skim the waistline of her jeans, finding a strip of silky skin as her shirt rides up. She feels so good, so incredibly good in his arms, under his hands. Her fingers wind into his hair, curling and uncurling, like a cat's little kneading paws, and it feels like heaven. He kisses her just a little harder and she yields sweetly, her head tipping back slightly, her body soft and malleable as he holds her.

Finally she breaks the kiss and doesn't immediately come back for more, instead trailing her hot lips across the slight stubble on his cheek. She finds his ear and envelops the lobe in her mouth, tugging gently with her teeth, making him shiver. His hands slide to her hips, holding her firmly. While he's letting her have control right now, she's not getting away. That's something he just can't handle.

"Can I see, daddy?" she whispers just below his ear. Her hands drop to the hem of his shirt, lifting slowly. She's giving him a chance to stop her, but as much as he intended to take this slow, he's not an idiot. If she wants to see him shirtless, who is he to argue?

"Of course, baby girl." His voice is lush with heat, his heart pounding hard as she lifts his long-sleeved t-shirt over his head and helps him out of it.

"Oh..." The noise she makes is somewhere between a sigh and a little moan, and Edward's immediately in love with it. Bella's hands slide over his skin, slowly running from his shoulders downward. "I have a strong daddy."

Objectively, Edward knows he looks pretty damn good. He's not huge like Emmett, but he goes to the gym regularly and takes care of his body. Women like his body both clothed and unclothed. But to hear Bella say it is something else entirely. "You have a very strong daddy," he tells her, squeezing her hips, "but he's wrapped around your cute little finger."

"Does that mean I can have something I want?" She looks up at him from under thick lashes, that cute little finger finding its way to her mouth. She bites on her fingertip, playing coy.

"Probably," Edward groans. She's far too adorable, far too tempting. How is he supposed to say no to her? "What do you want, baby?"

She leans forward, brushing her lips against his ear. "You," she whispers, before sliding to the floor on her knees. She lifts up, mouth on his chest, lapping at his skin with her soft little tongue. Her body's resting against him and he knows she can feel his cock straining against his jeans now. His shy girl has turned into a little sex kitten, and it's not a transformation he's upset about. Her eyes flick up to him, wide and wanting, and he can't stop her, he _can't_, as her mouth travels lower and lower, down his chest and stomach, nibbling gently at the line of soft hair leading to the waistband of his jeans. "Please, daddy." Her hands reach for the button and zip of his jeans. "I want you."

"Only if it's what you really want, Bella," he says, using her name to get her attention. He's not going to stop her if this is something she really wants, but he doesn't want her to feel like she has to do it. "It's not necessary, I promise."

But her hands are right there, popping the button on his jeans and slowly dragging down the zipper. "I want you," she insists, wide brown eyes gazing up at him, full of the ache he feels whenever he can't touch her. Those impossibly expressive eyes can't lie; he understands exactly what she's feeling. They're two parts to a whole, needing contact, needing this heat, this touch. He groans as her hand glides over his restrained cock.

Finding no complaint from him, Bella tugs at his jeans until he lifts up, letting her pull them down his legs and toss them aside. Her hands immediately slip to the waistband of his boxers, pulling as he releases those as well. Her eyes widen when he settles back to the couch fully naked, his cock full and straining.

"You're so big, daddy," she whispers, eyes wide. She honestly looks a little intimidated—not the first time Edward's seen that reaction to his cock—but it doesn't kill the naked desire in those big brown eyes. She settles to her knees, wrapping one hand around his thick erection. Her thumb and fingers don't even come close to meeting. "Please let me suck you. I really, really want to, daddy." The raw want roughens her voice and Edward shudders, feeling her breath against the head of his leaking cock.

"Then suck me, baby." Edward swallows hard, grabbing at the couch cushions with his hands. He wants to hold her head, wind his fingers through that silky hair and guide her, but not this time. This first time, he'll let her do it on her own.

A hum of pleasure leaves her mouth and she lowers her head over him, breathing softly for a moment. She licks her lips and places a soft kiss just at the tip of his cock. Precum smears over her mouth and she licks again, first her lips, then his weeping slit. Edward hisses as a satisfied "Mmm," leaves her mouth. "Daddy tastes so good."

She toys with his cock, her hand gentle at the base of him, her mouth licking and kissing down one side, then slowly up the other, before she unfurls her tongue and gives one long, satisfying lick up the underside. Edward tightens his grip on the couch cushions, determined to let her do this her way even though he's pulsing and aching to be inside that warm, wet little mouth of hers. "Don't play with daddy, baby," he begs her, pretty sure he's ready to do whatever she wants at this point as long as she stops this delicious, infuriating torment.

She removes her mouth from him for a moment, smiling innocently—he can't help but smile back despite it all. She's having fun, and he loves it. "Yummy, daddy." She licks her lips again and finally, _finally_, her little mouth stretches around him.

"Oh _fuck_..." He swallows hard, head tipping back, eyes squeezing closed. God, that mouth. So hot, so wet, so sinfully good. She sucks him deep, moaning around him, and the vibration of her hum makes him curse. So good. "Good girl," he babbles, clutching the couch cushions, determined not to put his hands on her, "suck daddy deep. Fuck, that's good. More, baby. Can you go deeper?"

She tries, and Edward feels the obstruction when he reaches the back of her throat. She can't deep throat a cock as thick as his, not without practice, and he doesn't push her to try. Her mouth is amazing, sucking softly, then harder, hollowing her cheeks, making soft, wet little suckling sounds as she takes him as deep as she can go, then backs off a little, pulling him out of her mouth with a little pop. She plays with just the head again, stroking his shaft with her hand, wrapping her tongue around the sensitive tip.

"More," he begs, thrusting into her hand, pushing toward her lips. She obeys, opening that pretty mouth to take him in again. Here she's plush and perfect, just the barest scraping of her teeth over his length, and she sets a rhythm just slow enough to make him groan, craving more. One hand slips below his cock, palming his balls in rhythm with her mouth. God, she's so perfect. In and out, her mouth slips around his throbbing cock. His abs clench, his whole body begging to thrust. But he doesn't know if that's something she'll welcome, and he's not quite willing to find out just yet. In, out, sliding up and down his glistening length. It pulses in her mouth, swelling further. Her tongue swirls, rubbing the underside. He can feel the sensation building in his balls, the pressure, aching for release. Heat, need...now...more...

She speeds up just a little, just that last bit he needs, and Edward feels his abs clench, his cock swell even more. "That's it," he groans. "Take daddy's milk, baby. Take it." He hopes she's not inclined to spit.

Bella doesn't move her mouth away, and a moment later Edward comes hard in her mouth. He watches the blissed-out look on her face as she swallows, her throat moving, her hand still steady at the base of him. He didn't last long, but it's been a while since he's had anything but his own hand to fuck and she's so fucking good at this, he couldn't last. Hazy, satisfied eyes open and she blinks at him, smiling, replete. His softening cock pops from her mouth and she gives it one last gentle kiss at the tip, which makes him hiss.

"Come here, baby girl." He beckons her up and she crawls onto his lap, licking her swollen lips, her entire body oozing contentment.

"I don't know where that came from," she admits, reddening slightly. "I'm sorry, I just..." She shrugs helplessly.

"You don't ever have to apologize for wanting something like that." He brushes her hair back, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Oh, baby girl. You're incredibly good at that."

"I just suddenly really, really wanted to. I've never felt like that before." She looks a little shell-shocked, honestly. "And you're so beautiful, and taste so good..." Those dark eyes of her gleam a little, and she licks at her lips again.

"It seems we may have woken a little sex kitten, huh?" Edward bites back an extremely satisfied grin as she curls her body into his, letting him hold her. Sometimes all it takes is the right partner—which Jacob categorically wasn't—to bring out dormant desires. His mouth waters at the thought of everything being like new with them, Bella experiencing sex as if for the first time. He vows to show her exactly how good it can be with him. He's an intense lover, but a considerate one, and he fully intends to fuck Jacob out of Bella's mind some time soon.

"How is my pretty girl feeling?" he asks, skimming a light hand down her jean-clad leg. "Are you wanting, baby? Should daddy reciprocate?"

Her face heats, turning pink. "Um..." Her hands clasp in her lap. "You actually already kinda did."

No, he didn't. She's still fully clothed and he hasn't had a glimpse of that pretty skin at all.

Unless that's not what she means. "Did you come, baby?"

She exhales a long, shaky breath. "Yeah."

Edward cracks a crooked smile. "That sounds like it was good." He holds her against him, feeling a quiver run through her body.

"Really good," she admits. "I had no idea..."

"That you could?"

She nods. "I didn't think it was possible, but it was just so overwhelming..." She swallows. "Am I weird?"

"No, baby. Not weird. Very, very special. So special." Edward touches her chin, lifting with two fingers. "Come here." His mouth meets hers in a gentle kiss.


End file.
